The Downfall of an Unstable Man
by Beth B.K
Summary: Quentin Beck had a life before he became Mysterio. He was happy. He had a loving wife, a good career, everything was perfect. Then, a series of events began that sent him spiraling downwards. Quentin's life can only get worse, and he will get revenge on the man who caused it. Slight mature language, but generally teen. Angst will increase as chapters go on!
1. Chapter 1

**February 3rd, 2017.**

The day had started off normally, and it had been expected to stay that way. Quentin had made a cup of coffee that morning, extra strong with no cream or sugar, just like he did everyday. He had put four slices of toast in the toaster. Two of the slices were to be cooked on six and the other two on three. When his wife had come down to get her breakfast, he had asked if she wanted coffee, and she had said no. That was different than most mornings, but far from breaking the normality of it. When her toast popped out of the toaster before his, she put the same strawberry jam that she put on her toast each morning and he put the same butter he put on his toast every morning when his popped out a few minutes later. Over breakfast, they talked about what their day would be full of and what they had to do when they got home.

Quentin had to travel to MIT that day and even though it was only a three hour drive, he didn't want to be away from home for the entire day. But, he knew that he had to be at a presentation that Tony Stark, his employer, had specifically asked him to attend. Olivia similarly wished he didn't have to gone all day. She didn't mind walking to work in the morning, she actually enjoyed it when the day was shaping out to be nice, but she hated when she had to walk home at night. Most of the time, Quentin picked her up in the one car they owned, but with him gone, she'd have to walk down the dim New York streets alone.

When he was ready to leave, she walked with him down to the gate at the front of her house and kissed him goodbye, just like every morning. Quentin got in the car and waved goodbye to her. She waved back with a bright smile on her face, and blew him a kiss. She seemed a little bit off, but nothing really was wrong. Everything was fine.

On the way to Cambridge, Massachusetts, he thought about Olivia. It was approaching their fifth wedding anniversary, and he was trying to figure out what he should do for her. He hoped that they'd have something else to celebrate that year. They had been trying for a while to get pregnant, but it didn't seem to be working. Granted, they hadn't been trying for more than a year, and they both knew it wasn't likely to work the first time they tried, but it was still disappointing every time they realized she wasn't pregnant. He knew one day their luck would probably changed, but what if it didn't? And, what if it did? What if he just wasn't ready to be a father? The thought of having a baby made him nervous, but he couldn't tell if it was because he was excited, scared, or both.

When he finally arrived at MIT, he still had no idea what the presentation was meant to be. He was given a visitors pass and escorted backstage to where he had a clear view of the stage. Tony was already onstage, in the middle of the presentation. He was initially confused, but he soon understood what was happening and what was being presented. Tony was presenting his newest invention. The one he had been working on since he had been hired at Stark Industries, when he was still fresh out of university. He had been working on it for almost nine years, for his entire career. It was to be his crowning glory, his magnum opus, something he'd be remembered for. And now Tony Stark, the bastard, was presenting it on stage and giving him absolutely no credit. And to add insult to injury, he named it B.A.R.F. As if things couldn't get worse. _B.A.R.F._

Eventually the presentation ended and Tony stepped offstage. Quentin didn't care that was his boss, he was livid.

"Stark! What the hell was that?" Quentin confronted the man.

"Ah, Beck. Just the man I wanted to talk to." Tony said, "Maybe we should do it somewhere more private though."

Quentin was eager to confront the man, but he obeyed, following him to an empty office down the hall.

"So, how're things at home with the wife?" Tony asked, half-sitting and half-leaning on the desk in the room..

"Can we cut the small talk, Stark?" Quentin said, his voice angry, "What the hell was that?"

"I presented B.A.R.F. I know it was your invention. Here's the thing, Beck, it's absolutely brilliant. I think the whole world should have access to it."

"Not like that! You've turned it into some sort of therapeutic machine. That's not what it's supposed to be!" Quentin said, his voice getting louder.

"But, it can be used like that. It can be used for whatever we want. This could change the world."

Quentin slammed his fist down on the desk, "It's not to cure your hurt feelings! It's my life work! You're turning it into some sort of game! Something someone can buy and play with as easily as a new iPhone! That's not what the fucking tech is for!"

Tony paused, looking down at the dent Quentin's fist left behind. He looked back up at Quentin, taking off his sunglasses and making eye contact with the mans furious eyes, "Look, Beck. I like you. I think you're brilliant. You're still young, you have a good life ahead of you. But," He paused again, "You're unstable. You're not a good fit for Stark Industries anymore. Over the years, you've proven that your emotions are like an on-off switch. This is the breaking point."

"What're you saying, Stark?"

"You're fired."

"I'm fired?" Quentin asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, really Beck. Like I said, I like you. I know you're good but-"

"Save the shit, Stark." Quentin said, "I don't need you to make this even worse."

Tony pursed his lips, "I think you should go, Beck. You should get home and tell your wife. Try and find a new job. You can come get your last paycheck next week, along with your severance package. If you need a reference, feel free to ask."

Quentin barely heard what Tony said. He was in disbelief. He needed to figure out how he'd tell Olivia. First though, he needed a strong drink.

He pointed an angry finger at Tony, "This'll hardly be the last you see of me." He said.

He left the office, slamming the door behind him. He did the same with his car door and drove around town, looking for the nearest bar. He found one, certainly not the nicest one in town, but one he hoped would offer vodka. He went inside and sat down at the bar, leaning his head in one hand and leaning on the counter with the other.

"What do you want?" The bartender asked.

"Vodka. Lots of it." Quentin said.

The bartender gave him a glass of vodka. He took his first sip, his face twisting as the bitter liquid went down his throat. He didn't know what to do next. How would he tell Olivia? What would happen after? He knew what he wanted to tell her once he broke the news. Run. Get out of here before things get worse. Find someone else who can take care of you. Don't stick with me, I'll just fail you. He downed the last of his drink, left a few bills on the by the empty glass, got into his car and began the three hour drive home.

The alcohol clouded his mind, just enough to distract him, but not enough to impair him. Not that he cared about driving drunk, it was the least of his worries right now. On the car ride home, he went over what he would say over and over again. Each time, it changed. He just really didn't know what to say. Quentin arrived at their brownstone, only to find Olivia already home. She stopped fumbling for her keys and waved at him as she saw him pull up. He halfheartedly waved back. When she realized that he looked incredibly sad and wasn't getting out of the car, she walked up to it and leaned down, gently knocking on the window.

He rolled it down, "Hey." He quietly said.

"Hey." She replied, "What's wrong?"

He sighed, "We should talk."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well...no. Not really. Not at all, actually."

"We should go inside, then. I'm cold." She said, the February weather obviously sending a shiver down her.

He nodded, getting out of the car and locking it.

Quentins day had started off normally, but had ended far from it.

**A/N: In this fic, Quentin is meant to be around 30/31 in early to mid 2016.**


	2. Chapter 2

**March 2008. 9 Years Earlier.**

Quentin should've had his eyes on the TV. After all, every station was reporting the news on his newest boss, Tony Stark, who had not only been recently rescued from terrorists, but was now claiming to be Iron Man. But, his eyes were instead on the pretty brunette in front of him. Olivia. The girl he had had a crush on since he had begun university. For four years, she had been a part of his friend group and for four years, he had been plucking up the courage to ask her on a date. He had only been able to do it after he got picked from the crowd and hired to work at Stark Industries before he had even graduated. After that, his courage was so high that it couldn't be toppled. So, he asked the girl if she like to go with him to dinner. She smiled that pretty smile and said yes, and he was sure that he was the luckiest person in the world before the date had even begun.

Finally, they were on that date. She was smiling her pretty smile as he told her some joke he had heard from some comedian that he memorized in order to impress her. In the low candlelight of the fancy restaurant, he noticed her smile was prettier than he'd ever realized. It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. She had her long brown hair tied into a bun, and she wore a modest black dress. She had red lipstick and mascara, but no other makeup. Everything about her was perfect. Quentin was sure she was perfect. In fact, he knew she was perfect.

She thought he was perfect, too. She hardly paid attention to the joke he was telling, but laughed at his enthusiasm. She knew the restaurant they were at was probably too expensive, and his suit was probably one he had borrowed. It didn't matter. She really liked him. For years, she had been hoping he would ask her out, and she was ecstatic to finally be on a date with him. She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she laughed again.

The waiter asked if they would like anything else and brought out their bill when they both said no. Quentin's eyes went wide as he looked at the number on their bill. It was high, really high. He was pretty sure that it was his whole bank account.

"Hey," He said, "Do you want to dine and dash?"

She laughed, "You're joking, right?"

He wasn't. But, he lied, seeing that his date didn't want to. He didn't want to mess up this relationship, at least not yet, "Yeah." He laughed, "I am."

She laughed with him, "But if it's expensive, I can help pay."

"No, no," Quentin said, waving his hand, "I've got this." He pulled out the credit card his parents had said was only for emergencies.

The waiter returned, and Quentin paid the bill. He knew his parents would be upset that he used his emergency card, but it was barely a dent in their bank accounts. Olivia and Quentin left the restaurant, and her hand somehow slipped into his.

"Where to now?" She asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Quentin laughed, "This is all I had planned."

"We're so close to the park. Let's go for a walk." She suggested.

Quentin nodded and followed her to the park. It was dimly lit, but even so you could still see the lush greenery that surrounded them. The path they went down was lit just as dimly, but when Quentin looked over at Olivia, he could see her bright green eyes and beautiful smile. Olivia was looking at the flowers planted along the path, trying to identify them.

She noticed Quentin looking at her, which only made her smile more, "What?"

They stopped walking and turned towards each other so that their chests were almost touching, "I'm just...really happy right now." Quentin said.

Olivia took a small step closer to Quentin, "Me too."

Quentin's hands came to rest on her hips. He paused for a second, then leaned down to kiss her. Their lips met in a tender kiss. Quentin felt like he never wanted the moment to end. When it finally did, he smile was so wide and goofy that Olivia couldn't help but laugh. They stared into each others eyes,

* * *

Their relationship moved pretty quick. As soon as they had graduated, they moved in together, into a little brownstone in the cheapest part of Manhattan that they could find. After all, the economy was in recession. Moving in together was for budget purposes. At least that's what they could say when people asked why they were moving so quick. There were many firsts to come, too. The first 'I love you's' came soon after moving in, only a few months after their relationship began. They saved up money, and adopted their first pet, a little black and white kitten they named Tux. Their first fight came soon, too. It was over something stupid that neither could even remember after a few minutes. Their first fight was immediately followed by their first time together. It was passionate, full of pint-up lust and yearning that they had been keeping in for months. They had promised they'd wait, and this was exactly what they'd been waiting for.

The first time they talked about their future was one lazy Sunday. It was a snowy January night, just a few days after New Years. Their first anniversary was coming in March, but the start of a new year made them think about what the next ones would hold. They were lying on the couch, Olivia's back to Quentin's chest. His eyes were closed and his face was nuzzled in her hair. She lazily played with his fingers, which were resting on her stomach. A dark green blanket was thrown across them both, in an attempt to keep them warm from the cold outside. The living room was dark except for the fire lit in the fireplace, which illuminated the two. His cup of tea and her cup of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of them, steam silently rising up.

"We'll get married one day." Quentin said, his voice muffled but his breath hot on her neck.

"Not a big wedding though." She replied, "I want our families there, and our friends, but that's not a lot of people. My mom of course will have to come, and my dad and my brother and his wife, but we don't have a lot of friends. Maybe we just need to get out more."

"Mmm." Quentin quietly chuckled. He didn't care about their wedding, he just wanted to marry her. To make her his forever. If he could've, he would've married her the first time he saw her, "I think we get out enough. That's more than enough."

"What do you want our wedding to be like?"

"I don't know. I like what you've said."

"Mm. You don't care much, do you?" She teased.

"Not really. As long as you're there, I'll be happy."

"Maybe by the time we get married, I'll have a better job." Olivia said, referencing the fact that she hardly had the job she wanted after she graduated. Though she had graduated with a degree in journalism, she hadn't been able to find a job in the field. Quentin had been able to support the two with his job, but money was still tight. He told her that she didn't have to settle on some job she didn't want, but she felt awful that she wasn't contributing as much as him. So, she got a job at a restaurant down the street, a franchise restaurant that operated in the vain of a classic diner. The job was grueling at times, and certainly not something she'd ever seen for her future, but it gave them some extra money. Quentin hated watching Olivia trudge off to another day of work when he knew she hated it. He hated seeing her sigh with sadness every time she put on her ugly yellow uniform. But, she was too headstrong to listen to him when he told her that she really didn't need to work to help him support the two.

"I'm sure you will." He said, "After all, you're brilliant and talented and gorgeous. Everyone should love you as much as I do."

She giggled, "Quentin! You're making me blush!"

He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead, then her cheek. She giggled again, sitting up to escape his flurry of kisses. He sat up, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She rested her head on his shoulders, "What about kids?"

"Kids?" He asked.

"Yeah. Don't you want to have kids someday?" She asked.

"I mean, yeah. I guess so."

"That's it? You just guess so?"

"Well, I'd like kids someday. Maybe one or two."

"You should let me meet your parents before we think of becoming parents. I'd like to see where you came from. How you got to be so you."

"You wouldn't like them," He said, leaning forward to get his cup of tea, slightly upset, "You're too nice for them."

"That's not fair, I haven't even met them." She said, watching him sip his tea, "You've met my parents. I want to meet yours."

"Your parents don't like me, though."

"They do so. You're just being dramatic."

"Let's just talk about our future instead. I'd rather think about us being parents than our own parents." He said, leaning back on the couch.

She sighed, leaning against him and closing her eyes, "I want three kids."

"Three?"

"You heard me." She said, laughing slightly, "Three kids. Two boys and a girl."

"I want a little boy. Maybe a girl." He said, still slightly upset by the fact his parents had been brought up. Olivia knew about their relationship with him, she didn't need to bring it up, "I don't know. We've got plenty of time to think about it."

"I can't wait."


	3. Chapter 3

**Late January, 2009.**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Quentin asked as they pulled up outside his parents house. He had done his best to convince her not to meet his parents, but it was to no avail. Olivia had insisted that she wanted to meet them, and he finally gave in. So, he called them and arranged for them to have dinner at his parents house. He had spent the last two weeks dreading it, but now they were there, and there was no chance of cancelling it now.

Olivia nodded, "I'm sure."

Quentin sighed. He had been hoping she'd say no and they could turn around and go home.

"Don't worry. It's just your parents. Not some big, scary, bad guy." She said, placing a hand on his forearm.

"You haven't met them yet." He said, opening his car door.

They got out of the car, and Quentin reached for his girlfriends hand, his only line to safety. They walked up the long path to the lavish house, and Quentin's nervousness grew and grew as they got closer. Once they reached the door, he took a deep breath and rung the doorbell. Everything made him want to turn around and go back. If it hadn't been for Olivia, who offered him a comforting smile, then he would've turned around and left.

Movement could be heard behind the door. A young woman in a who was dressed like a housekeeper answered the door.

"Mister Beck and Miss Bardot?" She asked. He nodded. The young woman moved to let them in, "Your parents have been waiting for you, Mister Beck. Please, follow me."

The woman led them to a sitting room that was full of elegant furniture. She gestured for them to sit on one of the couches that faced a coffee table and another similar couch.

"I'll let your parents know that you're here. They should be down in a few minutes." She explained as she brought over several tea cups from a nearby tray, "I'll be back with a pot of tea in a moment. She hurriedly left the room once she had set down four teacups.

Once she was gone, Olivia turned to Quentin, "You weren't kidding when you said your parents were rich."

"I told you they were loaded." He said, smiling at the girl beside him and placing a hand on her knee.

"The first floor of this house is probably bigger than the one I grew up in."

"My parents aren't modest, that's for sure. They like to show their wealth off."

"We won't be either when you're running Stark Industries." She giggled, leaning a little closer to her boyfriend.

"Or when you're the top journalist in New York." He said, kissing his girlfriend on the tip of her nose.

"Quentin." An older woman said as she entered the sitting room, an older man trailing behind her, interrupting the scene between him and Olivia. The woman was tall, dressed in a tasteful blue blazer and skirt. He light brown hair had streaks of grey throughout it and it was curled and styled into a neat bob. Her skin was wrinkled, but the makeup that covered her face helped to mask it. The man was dressed in a casual tan suit, with a white button up and light green tie underneath. His hair was dark brown, like Quentin's, but looked as if it was on the verge of turning bright white. He was tall, but only a few inches more than the woman. He still looked as though he had some youth to him, but that it was quickly draining away.

"Mother." He said, pulling away from his girlfriend and standing up to greet his mother. Olivia followed suit, standing slightly behind him and tenderly taking his hand.

His father walked over to a table near the entrance of the room and poured himself a glass of brandy while his mother walked over to the young couple, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. She leaned forward, hugging her son, "Hello, Quentin. My, my. When was the last time you shaved?"

"I was thinking of growing it out." He said, running a hand over the stubble on his chin.

"I'm not sure I like it, Quentin." She said as she pursed her lips and turned to Olivia, scanning her up and down with a critical eye. She disapprovingly looked at the blouse-skirt combo Olivia was dressed in and the loose bun her hair had been tied up in. Yet, one could hardly sense the disapproval in her voice when she spoke, "You must be the girl my son has been telling me about."

"Olivia." She said, holding her hand out to the older woman.

"Helen." She said, gingerly shaking Olivia's hand. She turned her back and walked to the couch opposite the couple, "Were you parents fans of Shakespeare, Olivia?"

"Oh, I'm not sure." She said, sitting back down on the couch beside Quentin, "Why do you ask?"

"Olivia. She's a character from the Twelfth Night." Helen took the martini her husband was handing her, "She was a bit of a...whore, to say the least. She had several suitors over the course of the play. What do you think of that, Olivia?" She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Um...I don't know. I've never read it." She awkwardly laughed. She turned to Quentin, her eyes panicked.

"Mother, can we change the subject, please?" Quentin asked, his voice stern, "Olivia hasn't met dad. Why don't you introduce yourself, dad?"

"Leon Beck." He said, reaching over the table to shake Olivia's hand, his other carrying a glass of brandy. He sat down on the couch beside his wife, "So, Quentin. How's the job with Stark going?"

"Great, actually. I'm working as an engineer in their holographics division. But, if things keep going well, I think I can be top of the team in a few years time." Quentin explained, "I actually just got a bit of a bonus. We were able to buy our own car."

"You've only been working there a few months time and look at how confident you are! I'm proud, son." Leon exclaimed.

"Hopefully it's not false hope." His mother said, a fake smile spread across her face, "And what do you do, Olivia?"

"I'd like to be a journalist, but for now I'm a waitress." She responded.

Both Leon and Helen nearly choked on their drinks. Their looks revealed shock and disapproval.

"A waitress?" Helen asked, "Why ever would you settle for something like that?"

Quentin saw that Olivia "It's a respectable job, mother. It's just until Olivia can find something better."

"Well," Leon said, his voice a little unsteady after his reaction, "Perhaps I can ask one of my friends at the Daily Bugle to consider you for a position."

"That would be great. Thank you, sir." Olivia said, forcing a smile after what had happened.

"Anything to help. After all, if your relationship is ever to progress, we can hardly have someone in the be a waitress." He scoffed.

"If it progresses." His mother muttered as she took another sip.

"You know, I don't mind the fact that Olivia is a waitress." Quentin said, he voice louder and angrier than it had been.

"Calm down, Q." Olivia whispered, placing a hand on his knee.

"It's a job, maybe not one you'd like, but it's still a good job." He said, his voice still angry.

"Perhaps we should change the subject once again," Leon suggested, "We have a lovely dinner being prepared. Olivia, have you ever tried beef wellington? Our chef makes the most delicious food."

"I need another drink." Helen said, standing and walking to the drinks tray.

"Let me help you, darling." Leon said, rushing over to help his wife.

Quentin turned to Olivia, "Do we have to stay for dinner?" He asked, his voice quiet enough that only Olivia could hear.

"Yes, Q. We have to stay." Olivia said, "We're too far in to leave now."

The housekeeper quickly rushed in and dropped the pot of tea on the table. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made quick eye contact with the two, but she quickly left the room. Olivia leaned forward, pouring herself a cup of the tea and mixing a spoonful of sugar into it.

"We really aren't. We could still go." He said, leaning forward with her.

"No, Quentin. If we don't do it today then we'll need to come back and do it. Let's just get tonight over with." She said, sipping her tea.

* * *

Dinner had been served. The group had eaten their meals in relative silent. No one dared to make real conversation after the earlier events. There had been a bit of small talk, but the atmosphere was awkward, and Quentin wanted to do nothing more than leave. His wish was finally granted once the last of his plates had been cleared away.

"Your mother and I have to pop into the office tomorrow, so we should probably get some rest." His father suggested, wiping his mouth and standing from the table.

"Yeah, we should probably go, too." Quentin said, standing up and reaching for Olivia's hand, "We have a bit of a drive."

The group walked to the door, and two housekeepers rushed over with Quentin and Olivia's coats. Helen and Leon began saying their goodbyes as they got their coats on. The goodbyes were returned, and the young couple hurriedly rushed out the door.

The second they got into the car, Quentin was livid, "What the hell were they thinking?" He exploded, starting the car, "I can't believe them! It's always criticism with them! Always! They were blatantly attacking you and expected us to take it!" He began driving, trying to get away as fast as possible.

"Q, it's alright, really." Olivia said, her voice calm.

"No! It's not. I can't believe them, I really can't!" Quentin shouted.

"Just calm down. It's over now. We're finally going home." She said, "Just breath."

He complied, taking a deep breath in, then letting it go and repeating a few times. Soon, he was calm. "I'm sorry." He said.

"It's alright," Olivia replied, "You just need to learn not to overreact."

"I just can't believe they'd do that to you." He said, reaching over and placed a gentle hand on her knee, "I'm sorry, really. I never should have taken you there."

She rubbed his hand, "I'm just disappointed that I never got to hear any embarrassing stories about you as a kid."

Quentin laughed. She always knew how to make him do that, "Maybe we left at the right time then."


End file.
